


Tonight, tonight

by MyLadyDay



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Tattoo, cute pets, tattoo artist bucky, veterinarian steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2597759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLadyDay/pseuds/MyLadyDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the fire alarm went off, Bucky may have been a bit too hungover (half-drunk) to even consider the possibility of an actual fire. Or to check out his hot neighbor properly. Or to even do something other than groan at the regrets he had about drinking with Nat. At least he made a memorable enough impression with said hot neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be a cracky drabble that went to hell, but the first bit was already posted so i was committed to it and i apologize for the OOC, this is my literally first stucky thing ever and i no longer know what i'm doing

The blaring of the fire alarm startled him awake, sending him flying over the edge of the bed with sheets tangled around his legs in an attempt at a hasty getaway. While he was sprawled on the carpet next to the bed, he chanced a glance at the clock on the wall by the door and noted, begrudgingly, that he only got one measly hour of rest after a day that had been too long and too exhausting.

Still, Steve was nothing but an upstanding citizen and following the protocol for such situations dictated that he had to get out of the building as fast as he could, no matter what time it was. With a swift swipe at the pile of laundry at the foot of the bed, he grabbed a shirt and slid it on, hurrying, or rather stumbling, out of the apartment with no regard to the fact he had no pants on. Pants were not a priority if there was a fire and someone needed his help, anyway.

As good as his intentions were, Steve couldn’t really do much about his fatigue; keeping his eyes open even as he stumbled out of his apartment was a struggle he was almost certain he’d lose any second now. Tripping over his own feet and dropping his keys would hardly qualify for being his brightest moment of the day or, well, night, considering it was well past midnight, but not really close to dawn yet.

He was just picking up his keys after closing the door behind him when another door opened to his left and a drawn out groan sounded over the overwhelming noise of the alarm. Now that was an amazing feat that woke him just a tiny bit more and Steve couldn’t help but turn towards the sound of the door closing as soon as he picked up the damn keys.

Even if he usually wasn’t prone to staring at people or randomly ogling them, he figured being half asleep was excuse enough to allow it just this once. He turned just in time to see his neighbor lean forward, resting his forehead against the door Steve heard close only moments before. Of course, the other’s lack of shirt registered immediately; even if he was half asleep, Steve wasn’t blind and muscles like those were really not easy to miss. Neither was the tattoo stretching over the entirety of the man’s arm, all the way from the small bolts inked on his wrist to the red star on his shoulder.

Noticing how low the grey sweats were on the other’s hips, though, made him lift his gaze with an abrupt jerk of his head, hoping he wasn’t found out. Instead, he noted a messy pony tail of brown hair and light grey eyes looking straight at him. Well, shit. Naturally, he’d apologize immediately, shame lighting his face just a bit at being caught staring, but he was too preoccupied with, once again, staring at his neighbor. Only, this time, he was having a hard time tearing his eyes from the black paint on the other’s face focused mostly around his eyes, giving him a distinct racoonish look.

Honestly, the guy looked more tired than Steve felt and that spoke volumes. They stood in the hall, blatantly ignoring the fire alarm still shaking the building, as they stared at each other. Steve was sure the look on his face was one of utter confusion as he tried to figure out whether the guy hadn’t slept in very long or was just prone to getting his ass kicked, resulting in one too many black eyes.

Absentmindedly, he noted the other was sizing him up just like Steve himself had done before, almost bristling at being so openly checked out, but somehow managed to keep his mouth shut because, again, he had done the same thing with a bit more drooling just moments before. Another apology made its way to his lips, considering he was still staring like an uncultured swine, but the other beat him to speaking.

“Don’t say a word about the eyeliner and I won’t ask why you have a pony princess on your shirt,” he said just loud enough for Steve to hear him over the alarm before the noise stopped abruptly, making them both glance around for a moment before Steve stole a glance down his front to note that, yes, out of all the shirts he owned, he picked the My little pony one Tony gave him for his birthday.

“I don’t think she’s a princess,” was the only thing Steve thought to say in reply, because he was that sleep deprived, alright, he wasn’t thinking smoothly at the moment. “And I don’t think that’s how you put on eyeliner,” he added because, clearly, his brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t working properly.

He got a groan in reply and, honestly, what else could he have expected. Steve’s hands shot out in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to insult your makeup skills,” he said in way of apology, and really, now he was more awake, but grumpy enough to be a sarcastic shit and that usually only happened around Tony. For a good reason. This time, though, he heard a chuckle in response to his teasing, but whatever the other wanted to say died on his lips as Bruce’s voice carried through the hall.

“If this had been a real fire, you two would have burned.” He did have a point, Steve knew, but since it wasn’t a real fire, the one problem was the fact he got woken up for nothing. “You both look terrible, go back to sleep,” Bruce continued like a disapproving parent before disappearing into his own apartment across the hall from Steve’s after muttering ‘good night’ as the door closed.

Steve turned towards his own door, opening it, intent on going back to bed and sleeping forever when the neighbor’s voice reached him again, even if it was just curses muttered in the silence of the hallway. As far as he could tell, there were mentions of makeup, vodka and crazy Russians before the neighbor’s half naked form disappeared into his apartment moments before Steve followed suit. The bed was calling to him and that was more important than thinking of the strange neighbor he has yet to meet properly.

And if he was thinking of taping a magazine with makeup tips to the other’s door, it was only because he didn’t get any sleep yet and not to have an excuse to see the other again.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hnnnnngggh…”

If the fire alarm hadn’t been so god damn loud, Bucky’s groan would probably have carried through the entire building. Or so he was convinced, anyway, not that his mental capacity had a wide berth at the moment. His head was pounding in the rhythm of the alarm’s blaring and, honestly, he felt as if his brain wanted to bleed out through his eyes even if he wasn’t really able to open them at the moment. Bucky was vaguely aware it wasn’t morning yet, considering his hangover was mixing with some residual drunkenness. Not pleasant, that.

Cursing Natasha and her vodka seemed to be the only thing able to distract him from the ungodly noise that woke him in the first place. Of course, he was aware he’d have to get his sorry drunk/hungover ass out of bed, but at the same time, he was also aware that the room would have to stop spinning first. As that didn’t seem very likely, Bucky tried to groan the headache away, which wasn’t very effective either.

With a great amount of effort, Bucky sat up in bed, his head lulling from side to side as he did so before he threw his legs over the side of the bed. Another groan left his lips and he didn’t even notice it this time, honestly. There was a moment of panic as the contents of his stomach decided to roll around a bit, making him hope he would not, in fact, puke in his bedroom before he finally stood.

Standing, as it turned out with no surprise, was a poor decision on his part. Very poor, he realized as he swayed on his feet and the room was kind of tilting a bit to the left. Still, even if death by hangover seemed plausible to him at the moment, Bucky hated to add the possibility of burning down with the building to that so with great difficulty, he made his way towards the door. He wasn’t really quick on his feet and the breeze tickling his balls as he walked alerted him to the fact he was completely naked, but hey, at least he made an effort to vacate the premises.

There was enough presence of mind to grab his trusted pair of grey sweats from the couch, where he took them off probably not too long ago, before he finally found himself at the front door. For a moment, Bucky leaned his cheek against the blissfully cool surface of the door as his hand blindly searched for keys on the small table to his left. His eyes were closing the longer he remained pressed against the door and sleeping there seemed like a completely rational decision at the moment.

It really wasn’t, though, considering the alarm had yet to turn the fuck off and he may or may not have dozed off then slid down the door in a less than flattering way. No one would know about that, though. Hell, he might not even remember in the morning, be it from the booze or repressing the embarrassment.

Finally, he managed to get through the door, the throb in his skull induced by the shrill sound of the alarm somehow subdued enough for him to remain standing. Not that he was able to stand properly, really, but luckily, he managed to close the door without incident, though not without a groan, before he pressed his forehead against the smooth surface again. That door did not get the love it deserved, as far as he was concerned, but that would change because that door, man, it was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Which amounted to a lot at that particular moment as his brain seemed to pulse in beat with the alarm and he shivered from the sudden cold sweat breaking out of what felt like his entire body. Though, it could just have been his upper body because, god damn, he didn’t put a shirt on.

Bucky managed a deep breath without feeling his stomach churn away at the alcohol still inside before he glanced to his right, towards the stairwell that was his next goal. After all, dividing his journey towards the exit made it easier. Only, okay, he didn’t see the stairwell because it was obscured by a guy. Sure, he was kind of blurry to Bucky, what with being half drunk, half hungover and his eyes were not happy about the bright lighting in the hallway, but even in this state, he could make out the important parts about the guy. For example: blond hair, impressive shoulders, the fact he seemed to prefer boxers over briefs and, of course, the pony with a rainbow colored mane on his T-shirt. Bucky didn’t, surprisingly, miss the fact his neighbor seemed to be checking him out with little to no subtlety.

Of course, as soon as blondie’s gaze settled on Bucky’s face, Bucky knew what had caught his attention. He was sure he’d be cursing Nat and her fucking covert makeup skills for all eternity, but really, he did bring it upon himself by actually letting her get him drunk in the first place. Telling her she can’t do something was never a good idea, anyway.

“Don’t say a word about the eyeliner and I won’t ask why you have a pony princess on your shirt,” Bucky said, hoping his voice carried over the rackett the alarm was making. Oh yeah, he should probably be making his way towards the staircase. Only, he didn’t because the noise came to an abrupt stop and Bucky’s voice sounded unpleasantly loud in the sudden silence.

Blondie, though, only glanced down at his shirt as if he were genuinely surprised to see that Bucky was right about the pony. Well, nice to know he wasn’t the only one out of commission at the moment.

“I don’t think she’s a princess,” the neighbor said, because apparently it was important information. Bucky couldn’t decide why, really. “And I don’t think that’s how you put on eyeliner,” blondie added like he knew what he was talking about and Bucky groaned. Again. He also rolled his eyes, aggravating his head a bit more, while mister Built-Like-a-Greek-God lifted his hands in a placating gesture.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to insult your makeup skills.” Oh, now he was clearly messing with him, Bucky could see that even with the headache he was sporting and, really, how could he not chuckle at that. Before he could even come up with a reply, and he would have, Bruce’s voice interrupted them. Being something of the dad of the building, Bucky was sure Bruce had a point and the two of them would have probably burned to death on the account of not making it past their apartment doors.

With his good manners still in bed where he left them, Bucky turned to his door without a goodbye to either Bruce or the blond next door, ducking into his apartment with nothing but curses for Natasha’s alcohol tolerance on his lips. The bed felt better than anything else Bucky had ever felt in his life and he was dead to the world before his head touched the pillow.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Steve woke with a jolt, knowing it was entirely too early, yet he was fairly rested all the same. Instead of his alarm, though, Steve was woken by the realization that, in his panic with the fire alarm, he had entirely forgotten to take Hulk with him. Sure, there was no fire, but he hadn’t known that at the time. He lay there, horrified that he had forgotten his poor chinchilla in the fray of lack of sleep. With a sense of utter horror, Steve got out of bed and all but ran towards the cage in the living room. Of course, Hulk was awake and staring at him, judging him, most likely, for being such a bad person. At the moment, he knew he was; leaving a pet behind without even remembering… Christ, it only served to point out how badly sleep deprived he had been.

With a boatload of remorse, Steve filled the food dish and replaced the water, adding some treats in a very poor attempt at winning back Hulk’s favor. The chinchilla was staring right at him, though, and Steve suspected he knew what had happened and wasn’t entirely happy with it. Of course, small animals were frightened by loud noises and the alarm had been just that.

Still, Hulk turned to his food and ignored Steve as he closed the cage with a sigh before making his way into the kitchen. With the press of a button, coffee was brewing slowly with annoyingly loud sounds as Steve returned to his bedroom to change for his morning run. He had just enough time to run his usual route then return for a shower and breakfast before work. Pretty standard routine for his mornings, save for the part where he was being crushed by the guilt of potentially leaving his beloved pet to die in a fire.

True, if the thinks more about it, he does remember that he never made it out of the building either so there was that. With a start, he remembered the neighbor that didn’t make it further than his apartment door. Well, Steve thought it was a memory and not just a byproduct of sleep deprivation. After all, he wishes he could say he had never hallucinated after staying awake for far longer than necessary.

Shaking his head to dismiss such conclusions, Steve dressed in a plain T-shirt and sweats, putting on his sneakers before making his way out the door. He was moving towards the door, trying his best not to think of Hulk and not being worthy of owning a pet, knowing his mind would clear up as soon as he took a breath of fresh morning air.

However, he lingered as he passed by the door next to his, the image of smudged eyeliner all too clear in his mind and he grinned to himself, his step quickening as he started his jog. He kept as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb anyone in the building as he descended the stairs and, finally, stepped outside.

The sun was already shining, yet the street was fairly empty, the shops still closed, but the workers setting up behind the shiny glass. Even as he started moving down the street, his mind slowly draining of any unwanted thought, Steve was still aware of the scant few people he passed and the places that marked his well known path, first of which being a tattoo shop that he had never seen opened, if he remembered correctly. It was calming, in a way, zooming past everything he knew, everything that grounded him in his life. With a smile, he passed the animal clinic a couple of blocks from his apartment, but as usual, he kept going, turning another corner and cutting through a small park. As usual, he was the only one running between the trees, other runners passing by only as he was leaving the small park.

He was on the street again, and by this time, there were more people about, walking to work, shuffling tiredly on the sidewalk, clutching at oversized paper cups as Steve smoothly passed through the gaps between people walking the opposite way.

All too soon, his run was coming to an end as he rounded the corner and made his way down the last block between him and his apartment. His pace slowed as he approached the kiosk just down the street from his building. This wasn’t exactly part of his routine and, strangely, Steve felt okay with that. The routine gave him comfort, especially in the mornings as he cleared his mind and prepared for a difficult and exhausting day; a description that fit pretty much every work day, which in turn, meant every single day of the week for him. He was okay with that, really, he was, despite what Sam or Bruce might have to say to that. Usually, they had a lot to say about that, but, well, he was more stubborn than either of them.

So with a shift in his routine, Steve came to a complete stop in front of the kiosk and fished out a few crumpled notes from his pocket as his eyes scanned over the rows of magazines. There was no solid idea in his mind, but he knew vaguely what he was looking for. Steve was far from being an expert on magazines for women, even less so when it came to magazines for teenage girls which is why the sheer amount of everything that the kiosk had to offer for those specific groups was frightening.

Apparently, this was a task far more difficult than he had originally expected, but the bored looking girl behind the register noticed him and was looking at him with obvious interest. Quickly scanning over the selection, Steve picked up the Girls’ Life magazine for the simple fact it had ‘Make-up tips for every occasion’ written in bold letters. The look he got from the sales girl almost made him blush, if he were honest, but he got through that ordeal unscathed as he focused on trying to figure out whether his neighbor would blush or get pissed at seeing Steve’s little present.

Again, if he were honest, Steve didn’t know why exactly he was doing this in the first place. Despite what some of his friends seemed to think, he did have a sense of humor, but he didn’t exactly poke fun at strangers like this. It almost made him giddy as he paid for the magazine and walked the rest of the way to his building, going through the front door and up the flight of stairs almost soundlessly. Almost snickering to himself, Steve passed the neighbor’s door, momentarily reminded of his childhood and the silly pranks he watched other kids do, but never actually did anything himself. Perhaps this was just an attempt at making up for what he’d lost, being sick too often to be a child like he should have been.

He made it back into the apartment with the magazine under his arm, taking a short moment to check the time before pouring himself a hot cup of coffee. Breakfast was, once again, a bowl of cereal due to the simple fact Steve wasn’t the most skilled person in the kitchen. Sam, however, was and he had a habit for bringing extra food to work, to Steve’s utter joy.

As he ate, Steve couldn’t help but decide to take Hulk to work with him in another attempt at atonement. To a regular person, Steve would probably seem insane what with all the drama in regards to his chinchilla, but that never bothered him anyway.

With that in mind and the magazine staring at him from the table, Steve ate his breakfast before hurrying into the shower. Even if he had plenty of time left, it never hurt getting to work a bit early, did it? He was out the door in record time, Hulk safely tucked into his plastic carrier as Steve locked the door all the while trying to keep the magazine and tape from falling out of his pocket. At this point, he was grateful for oversized pockets men’s pants had, even if the magazine was half falling out.

It was still really early and Steve hoped his mysterious neighbor wouldn’t open his door at the exact moment Steve was taping a magazine for teen girls on it. Having to explain that would most likely be awkward and, probably, diminish his chances of… Well, of what? Steve had to stop for a moment, again, to ask himself what it was he actually hoped to gain with this. A friend, maybe? He hadn’t thought of that yet, but now that the question crossed his mind, Steve couldn’t help but dwell on it.

Still, he set Hulk’s carrier on the floor as he carefully stuck the way too heavy magazine to his unsuspecting neighbor’s apartment door. Once again, he almost snickered to himself, but he had enough self control to restrain himself (thought he couldn’t suppress the snort that made its way into the quiet hallway). It was pretty undignified, but well, no one heard him save for a chinchilla so everything was okay.

Sporting a grin, Steve picked up the carrier before hurrying down the stairs and out the building before he could regret his childish behavior.

* * *

Between the hangover and the damn fire alarm going off at fuck o’clock, Bucky couldn’t say he got a lot of quality sleep, but he did have more of an appreciation for the fact his work day started at noon. His appreciation for Natasha’s persuasion skills, however, was virtually non-existent at the moment. Was it impressive that she got him to get piss drunk in the middle of the week? Sure. Does that make drinking in the middle of the week a good idea? Not by a long shot. Granted, Bucky was his own boss so being late for work wasn’t that big of a deal, but then again, he was also Nat’s boss and that didn’t really mean much, apparently, other than the fact she thought it gave her the right to wake him up at nine. Far too early, if you ask him.

As it turns out, personalized ringtones can be really a really bad idea. Being woken up by the sound of death metal blasting from his phone did wonders in making his headache worse, which he thought was impossible in the first place, and it also reminded him not to let Nat near said phone ever again. When she’d managed to set her own ringtone, he’d never know.

“You’re the devil,” he said as soon as the phone was pressed to his ear. “I should fire you.” He really should. Probably won’t, though.

“I know.” Her response, short as it was, still  told him enough; namely, she was well aware of everything he said and didn’t say. “Get up, you have work today.”

“I have three more hours before work,” he said, absolutely did not whine, before letting his head smack back into the pillow. Her response was silence, though he could almost hear her smirk through the phone. If there was one thing Nat loved, it was seeing him regret his own dumb decisions. Well, at least the harmless ones, she wasn’t actually that evil.

“You have three hours to deal with your hangover,” she said, matter-of-factly, after a beat of silence. Of course, she was entirely right. Bucky could vaguely remember his schedule for the day and he had one long appointment for the afternoon so his options were either cancelling that or getting up to rehydrate. “Get out of bed,” Natasha added before hanging up and all Bucky managed was an undignified sound of a dying whale before rolling out of bed.

Somehow, he managed to land on his knees with no unnecessary injury, which was a fucking miracle all in itself, before he picked himself up and blinked at the shot of pain through his head. Bucky considered himself lucky, though, considering his hangovers usually meant only headaches and, luckily, no nausea or anything of the kind. If nothing else, he always had plenty of Aspirin in his medicine cabinet, which was, incidentally, the goal of his quest at the moment.

Walking was quite literally a pain, though, at least he could get away with not having to get dressed yet considering he simply dropped into bed as soon as he walked back into the apartment last night, sweats and all. Moving, however, only served to point out how clammy his skin felt, the alcohol he drank now pouring out of his pores. The tie in his hair was a bother, though, all tangled and pulling at the messy strands. He managed to untangle it as he walked to the kitchen first, hunting for a glass of water before turning to the bathroom. Hair was going in his eyes, falling messily around his face and he couldn’t be bothered by trying to imagine what kind of disaster he resembled.

Until he finally reached the bathroom and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, that is. It would take a lesser man to flinch at the sight of his own reflection, but he couldn’t keep the grimace away. His hair was beyond messy, to the point that he had no idea which word to even use to describe it, should someone ask. Worse still, the hair cast shadows on his face and the black smudges around his eyes, making him look oh so creepy, to the point of almost scaring himself just by looking into the mirror. Staring did nothing to help ease his headache, though, so he downed his Aspirin before dropping his pants and getting his alcohol smelling self into the shower. He was pretty much sweating vodka at this point and completely hated it, already making a mental note to change the bedding. Also air out the apartment.

Bucky took his time in the shower, enjoying the hot water cascading down his cold skin and finally flattening down the nest of hair. His eyes burned as the water washed out the last bits of eyeliner. He could see traces of it washing down the drain at his feet before he took hold of the shampoo bottle to wash his hair.

As he washed all traces of a rough night as thoroughly as he could, replacing the smell of alcohol with the soothing scent of mint, letting it fill the small bathroom before he even thought of getting out of the shower. The Aspirin did its job fast enough and the mint was just on the right side of soothing to make him admit Nat’s idea to wake him up at nine was a good one now that he was feeling remotely human again.

It was a good feeling, though coffee was now the next thing on his to do list along with breakfast, even if he didn’t really feel like cooking. Still, he got dressed and opened all the windows to let the fresh air in before he made coffee and some eggs, mouth watering a little when he discovered the bacon in his fridge as well. It was all going through the motions at this point, occupying his hands with tasks he could do blindfolded, as his mind tried to work out what had happened the night before.

Natasha came over after work, which wasn’t exactly odd. She had a bottle of vodka with her, which may have been alarming for anyone else, but not as weird when it came to her. They had celebrated his win at the competition on the tattoo convention they had visited only a week before. It had been one of his best works, honestly, and the thought of celebrating was a good one. At the time, at least.

They emptied the bottle in record time, that much he could remember. There was also some other alcohol he found in his fridge, which he also remembered. Even as he could remember Nat putting makeup on his face, Bucky couldn’t recall why exactly he’d let her in the first place, but then again, he let her do worse before so he could live with a bit of eyeliner. She left, he stripped and plopped into bed; all things he could clearly remember. Then there was that ungodly noise that woke him.

Bucky wasn’t sure why, but the memory got a bit loopy here, apparently, because he thought he remembered a pony. As he sat at the table, breakfast and coffee in his hands, he recalled someone making fun of him, though he wasn’t sure. After all, at that point, he was almost completely asleep and half drunk so he allowed himself to forget some parts of the night. With that, he let it go, turning to his breakfast so he could go to the parlor sooner and get some extra work done, now that he was himself again.

* * *

It was almost eleven by the time Bucky finished breakfast, cleaned up the apartment and got ready to leave. He also drank more water and coffee than he thought was humanly possible, but it helped with the hangover and there was barely a hint of it left as he opened the door to leave.

To say the abomination taped to his door came as a surprise would be a monumental understatement. There was a cocoon of tape around a magazine with some kind of pop sensation on the cover. Bucky had no idea what it was, nor did he care much for pop bands, but he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that this thing had something to do with the previous night. Less than carefully, Bucky peeled the mass of tape from his door and glanced over the magazine for teenage freaking girls before tucking it under his arm and locking the door behind him.

The walk to the parlor was just a couple of blocks long and completely riddled with a nagging feeling that he should know what the magazine meant or, at least, who it was from. Bucky wasn’t even that interested, per se, but he just needed to know. His curiosity was a force to be reckoned with, on a good day, which is to say he’d gotten into trouble because of it so many times before. This should be fairly harmless, he thought, unless the magazine was a weird gift from a stalker or a warning, maybe? It was hard to tell considering nothing like it had happened to him before.

He tried not thinking about it as he unlocked the parlor door and walked into the space of home away from home. Just being there invoked a sense of ease in him, a calmness he rarely ever felt outside that very place. Bucky took his time cleaning the place up and filling out orders for some supplies, filing away papers Nat left the day before and even reorganizing his entire ink drawer. The last one might not have been strictly necessary, but whatever, he was slowly regretting going early given that he was very bored instead of doing actual work.

Still, he sat at his desk when noon rolled around, his usual playlist sounding through the space as his work day officially started. Bucky was all alone, no customers yet and still another two hours before the only appointment of the day. Leafing through the magazine he found on his door wasn’t necessarily one of his better ideas, considering half of it were tips for girls on how to get guys (none of which were even remotely true) and the other half were makeup and fashion tips (none of which he needed). Something about the eyeliners and eyeshadows was suspicious to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Maybe he had a teenage stalker? Damn, Nat would have the time of her life if that were true and she found out. Bucky didn’t even wanna entertain that thought for long. Luckily, he didn’t have to as the door opened and he was greeted by a potential customer. The magazine, flung into the nearest drawer, lay forgotten as soon as it left Bucky’s hand.

Immersing himself into sketching, Bucky focused on work and let the time fly. He barely even remembered he was hungover a few hours ago, let alone what had happened before that. The music washed over him as his pencil scratched at the paper while he drew the, unfortunately, all too familiar design of a wolf howling at the moon. He loved his job, he really did, but really good tattoos were far and few in between. Tribal tattoos, barcodes and tigers with bared fangs were images that paid his bills, as cliche and boring as they sounded. The big appointment this time was inking a pair of wings which, admittedly, sounded pretty cliche as well, but at least he got his fair share of artistic freedom with the design.

Days, such as this one, when Natasha wasn’t at the parlor were usually the worst. As much as he liked solitude, Bucky got used to her presence, but mostly it was a matter of her playing secretary while Bucky worked. Truth be told, there was barely any good customer service between the two of them, so it was hard to say which of them should have even been in charge of making appointments and answering the phone, but he still liked having her around even if she’d kill him for insinuating she was a secretary. Too scary for that, really.

So even with no considerable company, Bucky’s day passed relatively quickly; he sketched out some proposals before the appointment then inking that for a couple of hours. His customers, at least the ones he didn’t know personally, were rarely chatty with him and so he found himself working in silence, save for occasionally instructing the girl to stretch a bit while he took five minute breaks or explained what he was doing. He learned early on that it helped ease people’s minds if they knew what was going on and how he was creating art on their bodies.

It wasn’t unusual for him to lose track of time as he worked, especially on big pieces like the wings he was working on, but it did surprise him a bit when he’d finally finished and noted it was already almost closing time. He was quick to decide he’d be closing early for totally valid reasons, yet he still didn’t rush through the last steps of spraying the fresh ink and covering it up. The instructions about taking care of the tattoo were spoken professionally and without leaving anything out, even if he handed her a paper with the same instructions afterwards as well.

As soon as the parlor was empty, though, Bucky locked the door and cleaned up the place before finally making it out the door. It was still sunny outside, despite it being a bit past seven, and that was definitely one of the main reasons Bucky hated summer. That, and the insufferable heat which was, in turn, one of the main reasons people didn’t get tattoos during the summer. Sweat was a bitch for fresh tattoos.

He was lost in thought, going down the street towards home, already planning on dropping into bed and making up for lack of sleep. Probably the best idea he had all week, honestly. It didn’t escape his notice how he came to that point in his life where he looked forward to going to sleep before dark and the realization made him freeze in place for a moment, forcing him to contemplate whether he was getting old far too soon.

The moment he stood on the sidewalk was enough for him to be dragged from his thoughts by sounds from an alley just a few steps before him; laughter, mean words and high pitched howls of pain, none of which were hard to recognize even if the noise of traffic did well to drown anything else out. Now, Bucky wasn’t really one for meddling into other people’s business or anything, but he wasn’t heartless in the face of undeniable abuse. It was clear to him, as soon as he started walking towards the alley, that it was an animal getting hurt, one that couldn’t defend itself. Which was, incidentally, one thing he couldn’t stand.

As expected, Bucky was met by the sight of three teenagers with their backs turned to him. He couldn’t exactly see what it was on the ground before them, crowded against the nearest dumpster, but it sounded as if it were in pain.

“Hey!” he shouted and all three turned towards him, immediately moving as the cocky shits almost all teenagers are. Mostly without any good reason, really. That did, however, give him an opportunity to peer behind them and see the small bundle of fur on the ground. “Pick on someone your own size.”

The closest of the little shits scoffed and opened his mouth to form a reply, but a glare from Bucky and a menacing step forward (he wouldn’t call his walk menacing, but Natasha insisted that’s what it was) were enough to make the kid shut up. The closer the got, the more frightened they seemed and, even if Bucky had no plans of actually beating them up no matter how much they deserved it, he did his best to scare them as much as possible.

One of them stepped forward, attempting to punch him and Bucky dodged, pushing the kid to the dirty ground behind him, listening for the shout of pain with satisfaction. The other two suddenly seemed even more discouraged, breaking into a run past him and towards the street, shouting profanities at Bucky as soon as they were out of his reach. He didn’t even bother looking back as he continued towards the dumpster and the injured animal that lay there.

Frightened yellow eyes stared at him as the cat tried to huddle up as far from him as possible. Now that he dealt with the kids tormenting this cat hiding in the shadow of the dumpster, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. It’s been years since he last had a pet and he’d never had a cat. He tried to make himself less threatening as he approached, crouching down within arm’s reach slowly before carefully reaching out with his hand. There was a hiss from the shadow, but he didn’t relent, not until his fingers brushed against soft fur and he felt a puff of breath on them as the cat sniffed him. That was progress, he figured, but with the shade, he couldn’t tell what was wrong with the cat.

Slowly, he drew even closer. There was nothing he could do for the poor animal, he wasn’t an expert after all, but he knew there was that animal clinic just down the block from his parlor where Nat volunteered sometimes. From there, it was a ten minute walk and he was pretty sure they were still open. As gently as he could, Bucky felt over the cat’s small body and avoided the wet patches before he finally managed to pick her up and against his chest. There was pained meowing, but he knew it was the only way, so hurrying as much as he could without jostling the animal, Bucky made his way out of the dark alley and into the slowly dimming sunlight of the street.

Finally, he could see the cat was covered in black shiny fur with white patches on the paws, streaked with blood that shined in the light. It was hard to tell with the overall blackness of the cat’s fur, but Bucky was pretty sure there wasn’t that much blood. Still, he wasted no time, passing by the parlor and hurrying further towards the animal clinic, entirely ignoring the strange looks he got for his troubles.

It was getting late and Bucky half expected his journey to the clinic to be futile, but luck was on his side as he pushed the door open and found an almost empty waiting room with a man behind the front desk immediately looking up as Bucky walked in. The guy was clearly used to similar scenarios, considering he was out of his seat and walking towards Bucky as soon as he laid eyes on the furry bundle.

“What happened?”

“Some douchey teens had her cornered in an alley, don’t know what they did or how bad she’s hurt,” Bucky said as the guy -Sam, according to his nametag- came to a stop just in front of him. He didn’t reach out for the animal, just looked at her for a moment before nodding and stepping back.

“Come with me,” he called out over his shoulder as he walked behind the desk and through the door. Bucky hurried, overhearing Sam tell someone about the situation. “Put her down on the table,” Sam said as soon as Bucky made it through the door and pointed towards the exam table. There was no one else in the room and Bucky was momentarily concerned that Sam spoke to himself, but set the cat down on the table nonetheless.

As Sam did his best to keep the cat calm, Bucky stepped back under the gaze of piercing yellow eyes, and didn’t know what to do now that it was out of his hands. Sam was gentle as he shifted the fur, looking for injuries and, to Bucky’s relief, it seemed as if the damage wasn’t as bad as he’d feared.

“Is she gonna be okay?” he asked, eyes still locked onto those of the cat.

“As far as I can see, she’s not seriously hurt, but there’s pieces of glass stuck in her skin.” His tone was even and professional, his gaze never moving from the animal on the table. “She yours?”

Bucky startled at the question. Surely, he was done now, having brought her to the clinic in time after saving her from those delinquents. Seriously, though, what the hell is wrong with those kids? Bucky was no stranger to being an ass at that age, but who the hell would hurt a cat?

“How old is she?” he asked instead of answering and this time, Sam did lift his gaze, looking at his for a moment before stepping to the side to get a syringe. He drew something from a nearby bottle before injecting it into the cat’s skin, just over her shoulder blades.

“I’d say around three months.” So, basically, she was a kitten. Fuckin’ teens. Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes from the kitten on the table; she was completely still, but clearly scared, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared back at Bucky. Sam cleared his throat, Bucky vaguely heard, but didn’t get a chance to speak as another voice carried through the room.

“I’ll take over, Sam, thank you.”

Bucky snapped out of his throughs and turned towards the door behind him as Sam took to removing the white latex gloves from his hands while the man, the vet obviously, was in the middle of putting on the same pair of gloves as he walked further into the room. Bucky could have sworn the guy looked familiar with that golden boy haircut and shoulders that were quite memorable, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Not until the vet turned to look at him, his face lighting up with a smirk.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said with familiarity that made Bucky narrow his eyes. “No eyeliner today?”

A simple question and Bucky stood frozen as the vet moved past him, reaching the cat and already soothing her while Bucky processed where he knew the guy from. Sam seemed to be equally confused, but still professional enough to save questions for later; Bucky might not have known him, but the look on Sam’s face said enough about his intentions before he left the room and thus leaving Bucky alone with the vet.

He ignored the question, opting for posing one of his own. “Buy any teen magazines lately?” The way the vet’s shoulders tensed for a mere moment was enough answer for him and, given the vague memory he had of their conversation from last night, Bucky was sure he found his ‘stalker’. “I’m Bucky, by the way,” he said before the vet managed to reply verbally, moving around the table so he could still see the cat. His concern for her was only growing and Sam’s questions was exceptionally adamant about leaving his head. Was she his? What do people even do with cats? Isn’t he a bit too young to be a crazy cat lady?

“Steve,” the vet said, glancing up at him above the exam table. “I’d shake your hand, but…” he trailed off as it was obvious he had his hands full of bloody glass shards he was removing from the cat’s fur. Bucky was slightly mesmerized, considering Steve’s size, he was very gentle as he worked, the cat barely moving and looking more at ease with each second. “She’s not hurt that bad, most of these are just scrapes, but there is one deeper cut that’s gonna need stitches,” he broke the silence, eyes darting up to glance at Bucky for a moment before returning his attention back to the cat.

“She’s not...” Bucky started, invoking Steve’s gaze to settle on his once again as he spoke, “uhm, she’s not mine.” Bonus points for sounding so sickeningly flustered. Steve, in turn, stilled and stared Bucky down with a gaze that could probably turn entire buildings into dust.

“You saved her and you’re just gonna leave her now?” Steve’s voice was hard and almost ice cold, no trace of the previous teasing in it anymore. Frankly, Bucky was kind of scared of him at the moment and he was very much considering just taking the cat to get Steve to just stop fucking looking at him like that! Which was weird, considering Bucky’s history of not being afraid of much.

“I-I don’t…” Bucky stammered, though he found that there wasn’t a very valid reason for him to not take the cat. He was convinced to take her as soon as he found himself in the line of Steve’s look, if he were honest, but somehow, Bucky felt as if he needed to be convinced and not give in just cause a pretty guy gave him a look. “What do I even do with a cat?” he asked with a sigh, still pretending that he didn’t really want to take her.

Steve, apparently, saw right through him and dropped the intense piercing gaze, replacing it with a smile. “You love her.” His reply suggested that it was just that easy. After all, what else would he do with a cat, right? “I think she,” he started, though paused for a moment long enough to lift one of the cat’s hind legs and make sure that she was, in fact, a she, before continuing, “already likes you.”

Now that smile, even as it was the opposite of scary, had the same intense effect on Bucky as that previous look did. Well, didn’t scare him, but still, it got him to give in without a fight.

“Well, whenever I need help, I’m looking for it next door. I hope you’re aware of that,” he said, aiming for a semi-threatening tone, but utterly failing at it. Steve, however, only grinned without lifting his head from where he was cleaning the cat’s wounds before leaning to the side for the syringe and several bottles of stuff where Sam left it. She wasn’t too happy with the shots, but Bucky could see that she barely put up a fight; the day’s events wore her down, not to mention how skinny she seemed to be, something he barely noticed before as he carried her. The decision to take her home, even if it was still a scary one, was starting to seem as the right move.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve, the goddamn saint, replied before proceeding with the stitches on the now sleeping cat. He must have sensed Bucky’s surprise and slight distress at the fact the cat was suddenly out like that as he continued speaking. “Sam gave her a sedative when you brought her in. She’ll sleep for a couple of hours.” His tone was gentle now as was the smile stretching his lips and Bucky was so very screwed. Clearly, considering he went to work today and was bringing home a cat just a few hours later. Nat would be fucking thrilled.

“I don’t have anything for her,” Bucky stated suddenly as his eyes stayed focused on the needle in Steve’s hands as he worked on the deepest cut. “Food or anything.” He didn’t look away from the cat, but he heard the soft chuckle from Steve.

“I’ll give you some food to give her until she reaches a normal weight and I’ll lend you a carrier to get her home safely,” Steve told him as he worked. “That should be all you need until tomorrow.”

In a daze, Bucky watched as Steve stitched the wound before gently placing the cat into a small plastic carrier. His list of instructions and tips for taking care of an injured cat reminded Bucky of how he gave instructions on aftercare for tattoos and he couldn’t help the smile, but he didn’t get a chance to speak anything in reply. All he managed was a short thanks before he was herded out to the front desk where Sam already waited with a bag of the promised food. He had absolutely no time to say anything as he was handed both the bag and the carrier before Sam turned around to scold Steve.

“Man, go home, you’ve been here since morning.”

Bucky didn’t stay to hear what Steve had to say to that as he could recognize a dismissal when he was given one, walking through the clinic door and into the street. He stood there for a moment as the realization hit him that he was conned into adopting a cat by the very embodiment of righteousness and didn’t even notice until he actually owned a cat. It probably wasn’t even the first time he did that if Sam already knew to pack food and whatever else was in the bag.

Well, when he woke up with a hangover, Bucky was not expecting his day to end like this, he thought as he did the only thing he could; started walking towards home that he’d now share with a pet. He’d think of a name later, he figured, considering his mind was still in shambles. One thing was clear, though: this was not the last time he would see Steve.


	4. Chapter 4

The walk home, while familiar, also seemed so very new and more unusual than it normally did. Of course, Bucky wasn’t a complete moron, so he didn’t need to ask himself why that was what with the unconscious cat he was carrying and a bag full of whatever it is cats needed to live. Oh lord, would he have to take it out for walks or something? Was that a thing people did with cats? Probably not, but whatever, it was too late for rational thought beyond a mantra of ‘call Nat’ running through his head. No matter how insufferable she could be, Natasha usually had all the answers. When in doubt: Nat. Simple as that.

With that in mind, he hurried home, but tried his damn hardest not to jostle the carrier with the cat more than necessary because it really was hard to say whether all this moving was hurting her. From there, his thoughts spiraled into needing a name because he couldn’t keep referring to her as ‘the cat’, no matter how bad he was with naming things. Naming characters in video games was one thing, but naming a living creature? Not easy. Bucky could only pray he would never have to name a child because the only way he could see that going is badly. 

Momentarily incapacitated, Bucky decided to consult Natasha after he was in the safety of his own home because the possibility of panicking on the street wasn’t on his to-do list. True, neither was adopting a cat, but whatever, at least he felt a tiny bit spontaneous at the moment, as sad as that was. He seriously needed some hobbies. With that thought, his panic or whatever it was, went into territories he had no interest in visiting at the moment.

So he just focused on walking home and avoiding people on the sidewalk, not that it was hard considering there was almost no one there. He didn’t really complain about that and he made it to the safety of his apartment building in no time, climbing the stairs as gently as possible, almost running straight into Bruce as soon as he stepped into the hallway of his floor. Bruce gave him a onceover for a moment, eyes falling onto the distinc carrier as he chuckled.

“He got to you too, didn’t he?” he asked, shaking his as he laughed softly, already on his way down the stairs without waiting for an answer from Bucky. Not that he’d get one, given that Bucky was confused as hell, but immediately distracted by the sound coming from the carrier in his hand. That was not good. She wasn’t supposed to wake up for a while and, suddenly, Bucky panicked for real. 

He was across the hall and inside his apartment in no time, the last light of the sun slowly fading out as he carefully set the carrier on the couch. The bag of goods was deposited on the coffee table with less care before he dug out his phone as fast as he could, knowing he’d need to contact Nat and figure out what the hell he should do. 

Bucky was dialing Natasha’s number, or at least trying to, when urgent knocking sounded from his door. He debated, for a moment, what was more important, opening the door or calling for help, but quickly decided on answering the door because Natasha was probably the only person that’d even visit him. 

As soon as the door was open, a bag filled with stuff was shoved in his face, pushing him back with a force that almost sent him on his ass. Sure enough, as soon as he lowered the bag, that seemed to hold another bag of something and a box of some kind, Bucky saw Natasha’s smug face.

“You have a cat,” she stated and walked around him, leaving the door wide open and Bucky entirely too confused standing next to it. He did not sign up for this shit. 

“How do you even know that, it only happened minutes ago.” Even with his hands full, Bucky closed the door without slamming it with unnecessary force before following her to the couch. She was already peering into the open carrier with almost childlike curiosity. 

“I have my ways,” she told him without looking his way. “I brought you some food for her and a litterbox.” He was still confused, her answer not really counting as substantial information, while she rummaged through the bag he was given at the clinic. “Oh, Steve gave you the good stuff.”

“What is the good… Wait, you know Steve?” he asked incredulously, because that was really suspicious even for Nat. 

“Of course I do, he lives right next door.”

“Next door to me, that doesn’t explain why you know him.” Bucky was already forgetting how worried and panicked he had been before Nat showed up. She had a way of distracting him from random bouts of panic, even if he was growing more suspicious of her by the day. “And he only just moved here, I met him like yesterday.”

Natasha was giving him one of her trademark stares now, the one with her eyebrow raised that suggested he was a monumental moron. “He’s lived here since before you moved in. In fact, he told me about this apartment being for rent in the first place.”

And that made no sense at all. Bucky lived there for a year already, how he had managed to just not notice tall, blond and manipulative, he would probably never know. But that didn’t even answer his original question and he said as much. 

“That doesn’t answer how you know him.”

“I volunteer at the clinic on my days off from the parlor,” she told him as she rolled her eyes. 

“Today was your day off,” Bucky said with a healthy amount of accusation because, seriously, he hadn’t seen her there and, even though he did know she volunteered there, but momentarily forgot, it all seemed like a huge conspiracy at the moment. 

“Clint’s sick.”

“What the hell does Clint have to do with that?” he asked, now with an unhealthy amount of confusion because, wow, this conversation was turning into a train wreck. 

“I usually go during his shifts, but he’s sick today.” She shrugged and turned away, looking at the cat again, signalling the end of whatever the hell that was. “Nastya’s moving. Should she be moving?”

“Who the hell is Nastya?” Bucky was downright frustrated now because Nat, for all intents and purposes, wasn’t even having the same conversation as him. 

“Your cat, James.” 

She was absolutely right, though; Bucky could see the cat twitching and making small whimpers that sounded very distressed which wasn’t really good for Bucky’s own panic and distress. This was already too much for him and the cat wasn’t even awake yet. There was a cloud of very distinct murderous intent being floated towards the apartment next door because it was all Steve’s fault. They didn’t even know each other for a full day, but Bucky had absolutely no problem with shoving all the world’s blame onto Steve’s shoulders because, fuck, he’s responsible for Bucky having a pet now. A pet that was waking up way too early and Bucky was completely ignorant about these things. Hell, he barely keeps himself alive, taking on the care of another living being was a dumb decision on his part even if the decision wasn’t his, technically. Dammit, Steve. 

“Steve said she’d sleep for a couple of hours, Nat, it hasn’t been a couple of hours.” 

Natasha seemed vaguely amused, but for once refrained from commenting and he was immensely grateful. Well, he would have been if he weren’t in the middle of a panic attack. 

“What if something’s wrong?” he asked frantically. “Oh my god, what if she dies?”

She offered nothing in reply, merely stood up and smacked him on the head. “She’s not gonna die.” Well, when she says it like that… Before he could say anything, she continued. “Just stay here, put the carrier on the floor and when she starts moving, make sure she doesn’t jump cause of the stitches.” With that said, she glanced back at the carrier for a moment before starting for the door. “Also, you’re taking tomorrow off so you can get to know your new roommate.”

“You’re not gonna leave me alone here, are you?” Bucky followed after her, but did nothing to actually physically stop her from leaving which she was so clearly doing. 

“You’re not alone,” she told him as she opened the door. “You have Nastya with you. I’ll cover for you tomorrow.” Just as she had appeared, Nat was gone, the door shut behind her and Bucky was once again left in a state of confused panic. He didn’t really have time for panic, though, because the sounds from the carrier were getting louder, sounds he recognized as confusion and possibly discomfort so he hurried to the source. Just as Natasha had instructed, he gently set the carrier on the floor before settling himself crosslegged on the carpet just in front of it. That was as far as his planning went at the moment, given he was once again at a loss for what the proper course of action would be. 

With nothing else to do, Bucky stared at the twitching furry paws peeking out of the plastic carrier as he came to terms with what was looking like a sleepless night ahead of him. At this point, he was too nervous to get up and grab his laptop or a book to pass the time, afraid he might miss something important if he were to move. He was in no way reassured when a weak sounding meow came from the carrier. Immediately, he frowned, his heart aching at the sound because he could do absolutely nothing to help or soothe the poor cat’s pain. 

Tentatively, Bucky reached inside and gently stroked the soft dark fur, careful not to touch the scratches or the stitches. After all, he may have been completely clueless about cats, but he wasn’t dumb; touching stitches was generally a bad idea. Still, he hoped the stroking would be soothing at least a tiny bit, for Nastya as it seemed to be for him. Feeling her body move with each breath she took calmed his panic and he relaxed where he sat on the carpet, stubbornly ignoring how uncomfortable sitting on the floor actually was. And it was all he could think about now, other than the question of why the cat was almost awake already. 

The current situation might have been stressful and Bucky was still out of his depth, but he was also a tiny bit bored. Stroking Nastya’s soft fur was more relaxing than he thought it would be, for him if not really that much for her, but Bucky still felt like it was doing some good so he didn’t stop. He could feel her move more with each passing minute, but she still wasn’t able to get up as far as he could tell. Hand still gliding along soft fur, Bucky looked around in an attempt at finding something to read within reach to ward off at least a bit of boredom and finding, surprisingly, a paperback hidden under the coffee table. It spoke volumes about how often he cleaned the place thoroughly, really, but at the moment, he was monumentally grateful. Even more so when it turned out it was the copy of Frank Herbert’s Dune he bought a couple of months ago and then promptly lost to the abyss of his apartment. 

As he opened the book and started reading, Nastya was moving with more force and Bucky was sure she’d be able to get up if his hand wasn’t holding her down gently. Still, she was surprisingly strong for a drugged up cat, he’d give her that. That strange admiration, even mingled with fear, only grew as time passed and she actually managed to get up for several minutes at a time. Of course, he wasn’t exactly at ease with how fast she could move because, holy shit, she could move really fast even if she wasn’t completely stable. 

Worse than the moving, though, was the meowing. She sounded so pained and confused as she wobbled around the room, slipping here and there to fall on her side before she stubbornly got up again. She didn’t stray that far from the carrier, thankfully, so Bucky didn’t bother moving from his spot on the floor which, he realized, may have been a mistake. 

Of course, that realization happened in the form of knocking at his door that woke him in the morning. Bucky’s eyes snapped open and he groaned, unsticking his saliva coated cheek from the carpet by the couch. Momentarily ignoring the knocking, Bucky panicked as his gaze fell on the empty carrier, but it didn’t take long to locate his new roommate. Nastya looked pretty satisfied and not even slightly in pain as she sat on the coffee table, her face buried in a torn bag of dry food. The food didn’t exactly have a nice smell and it was everywhere, spilling from the bag onto the whole surface of the carpet.

The knocking continued, though, and groggily, Bucky stood. Well, tried to at least, but his progress was entirely too slow. He was definitely getting too old for sleeping on the floor. Nat, and it was undoubtedly Nat at the door, could wait for a moment longer while he gathered his sorry ass off the floor which he did manage eventually. Nastya didn’t even bother looking up from her feast and Bucky wasn’t really sure if she should eat so much, but he’d have to take all this one thing at a time, the first being opening the damn door. 

“Nat, I gave you the key for a reason,” he called out, not bothering to look up until the door was open and he let out an ungodly screech at the sight before him. It was definitely not Nat standing there, of course, it had to be Steve. 

“Bucky? Are you okay?” Steve asked, his eyes wide, though he was obviously trying to hold back a bout of laughter at Bucky’s reaction. “Your eyes are red and you have something… on your face…”

“You have a rat on your shoulder!” Bucky hissed, staring at the beedy little black eyes that stared back at him, not caring for Steve’s comment about his face. His face was fine, what was not fine was the rat on Steve’s shoulder and stating that made Steve grimace in distress and he looked ready to jerkily swat at the unholy offspring of the devil himself that rested on his shoulder leaving Bucky with no time to inquire as to how the hell a rat managed to climb his shoulder in the first place. Steve, however, stopped himself and frowned as he watched the strange animal that never let its eyes roam away from Bucky.

“Hulk’s not a rat.” Steve turned back to Bucky who looked more terrified than he should have, but all in all it was a rough night for him so he couldn’t really be blamed. “He’s a chinchilla,” Steve added with a smile and, holy fuck, it was like sunshine, but he couldn’t focus on that because…

“Hulk?” 

Seeing Steve blush was unexpected and, surprisingly, very nice. Bucky could feel himself getting slightly flustered too, which was completely stupid and he really needed to start getting more sleep because this shit was unacceptable. A loud meow interrupted whatever the hell that was and both Bucky and Steve looked down in time to see Nastya circling Steve’s legs, sliding her side against his calf.  _ Traitor _ was all Bucky could think at her at the moment because he looked up again only to be met with those creepy little eyes and, wow, he never thought a tiny furry animal could be that unsettling. 

“Hi there,” Steve cooed at the cat and Bucky may or may not have glared a little at the both of them. She really was a traitor; cohorting with the enemy and doing nothing to protect Bucky from the furry menace on Steve’s shoulder that clearly had something against him. “You’re looking better today,” Steve continued talking to the cat, bending down to pet her as she purred with a sound that reminded Bucky of a truck. Probably even louder, really.

“So did you come here to steal my cat?” Bucky started, forgetting the rat for a moment. “‘Cause, I hate to tell you, but you can’t have her anymore, she’s got a name now and everythin’.” Never mind that he wasn’t the one to name her. 

Steve looked up at that before straightening, looking slightly sheepish. Bucky couldn’t help but wonder how this very same man managed to guilt him into adopting a stray cat. With a sigh, he stepped aside in invitation. 

“Come in, I’ll make coffee and you can explain the rat,” he said before turning and heading for the kitchen, looking back only to see if Nastya was walking with them. Well, she was walking with Steve, the little Judas, but he couldn’t really blame her what with Steve being an animal whisperer or something. 

“I told you, he’s not a rat. He’s a chinchilla,” Steve explained as he sat on one of the chairs next to the kitchen table. Bucky gave him a skeptical look for a moment as he was making coffee, but said nothing. The look he gave the chinchilla was downright distrustful and he imagined the little guy felt the same towards Bucky. “And no, I didn’t come to steal your cat. I wanted to check up on her,” Steve added helpfully, but there was something off about his tone that made Bucky wish he knew Steve better so he could decipher what that meant. 

“So you’re technically working right now?”

“Uh...” The pause made Bucky turn back to Steve, noting, once again, the sheepish smile on his face. “Well, technically, Sam threatened he’d sedate me if I came to the clinic before Monday…”

“So you came here to work instead?” Bucky asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“He didn’t say I can’t come check up on a patient!” The sheepishness was gone, only to be replace by fierce determination. It was only dimmed a tiny bit by the fact he still had a little ball of scary fur on his shoulder. Why he thought such a small fuzzy animal was scary at all was a matter for another time. It was at this point that Bucky finally understood.

“You’re bored, aren’t you?” he asked, a grin already forming on his lips even though, technically, what he was saying was first hand knowledge because he was the same. “You have no idea what to do on a day off.” The nervous smile on Steve’s face was enough answer to Bucky, though.

“I really did want to check up on her,” Steve said without denying anything Bucky had said. “What did you name her?” 

It was Bucky’s turn to look sheepish, but he absolutely refused to let that happen. “Nat named her Nastya.” Now that he used the name out loud, it wasn’t too bad. He could get used to it. 

A moment later, Bucky joined Steve at the kitchen table, rubbing at his aching lower back as soon as his ass touched the chair, after setting two cups between then and it didn’t take long for Nastya to join them, jumping onto Steve’s lap. Bucky cringed immediately, panic once again settling in because Nat said he’s not supposed to let the cat jump. Steve seemed to have a sixth sense for men and animals alike, though, looking at him as soon as the panic appeared.

“Bucky?” 

“Nat said she’s not supposed to jump,” Bucky said, gaze fixed on Nastya being less than concerned for her wellbeing and just circling around herself in Steve’s lap, looking for a perfect spot. She didn’t even glance at the animal on Steve’s shoulder, that was still staring at Bucky, which marked her as a traitor still. Maybe he should let Steve steal her, she clearly liked him better. That totally did not sting one bit. 

“Oh, it’s okay,” Steve told him with a soft smile. “The drugs seemed to have worn off entirely, so you can’t really keep her from jumping at all. Just try to make sure she doesn’t try climbing stuff yet.” She finally settled in and Steve’s hand found her fur immediately, stroking along her spine as she dozed off within seconds. “You know, you still have something on your face. It looks like carpet burns…” Steve trailed off, his eyes going wide as he stared at Bucky for a moment before his attention was drawn down to where Bucky kept rubbing at his lower back. “Oh, God, did I come at a bad time?” 

Bucky froze, his hand stilling as he was slightly at a loss for words and also understanding, because… what? He lifted his hand to his cheek, feeling for whatever it was Steve saw there and yeah, one touch was enough to tell him that he did indeed have a sore spot on his face. Definitely too old for this and he didn’t even get in the fun way, though, his days of having sex with his face pressed into a carpet were long gone, too. As soon as that thought passed through his mind, Bucky’s eyes widened as much as Steve’s did because Steve was looking around for another person, he thought Bucky had company and, fuck, he thought Bucky got carpet burn on his fucking face from having sex. Well, wasn’t that awkward. The thought of Steve having experience with this sort of thing was also awkward in the way all wayward sexual thoughts about almost complete strangers usually were. 

“No!” Bucky exclaimed, maybe a tad too late, because now it was completely suspicious and not really believable. “I…” he started, but Steve was already gently setting Nastya on the floor.

“I should go, yeah, she’s okay and I have… stuff to do,” he said, fleeing the kitchen and leaving Bucky equal parts confused and amused. “Nice seeing you, bye!” And with that, Steve was gone and the cat was looking pretty pissed at being dumped that hastily while Bucky pondered how his life led to this point.

* * *

So, as Bucky thought and, actually, knew from experience, sleeping for a couple of hours on the living room floor was hardly a recipe for a healthy life. It was also pretty taxing when paired with a surprisingly active cat that simply would not settle the hell down. That’s all good and well, in theory, but Bucky was too paranoid to let the cat just do whatever she wanted because, as it turned out, what she wanted was to jump on stuff and climb the curtains. Not one for interior design, Bucky briefly considered burning the damn things just to give himself some peace of mind, but he ultimately decided against it. They weren’t actually his, anyway.

Unlike him, Nastya was way too lively considering it hadn’t even been 24 hours since her trip to the vet. She also didn’t seem too pleased with the food he had for her, unless it was the fancy stuff they got back at the clinic which, of course, she had eaten already. The do’s and don’t’s of feeding a cat weren’t particularly familiar to Bucky beyond what the cans of food had printed on them. He did try to abide by that, he really did, but then she’d give him a serious case of wounded kitten eyes and he’d caved like a poorly stacked house of cards. It was humiliating.

He tried to stay strong and resist whatever power the cat had over him, but it was impossible. Apparently, he’d set himself up to a foreseeable future of serving a cat. Still, she was growing on him all the same, which he could have been worried about, but that’d take too much effort and he was simply too tired for that. His day consisted of trying not to fall asleep in random places around the apartment, feeding himself without actually cooking anything for fear of setting himself and the apartment on fire and, mostly, running after Nastya when she tried to jump on random surfaces that included, but were not limited to, the fridge, the top of the bookcase, the shelves above his bed and, weirdly, the cabinet above the bathroom sink. He even caught her almost toppling into the toilet bowl. What she’d been doing on it was a question he’d probably never have an answer to. Hell, he wasn’t even entirely sure he wanted to know.

Having a cat was as time consuming and stressful as he’d thought it’d be. Yet, strangely enough, he still regretted nothing. The incident over coffee earlier that morning not included. Bucky snorted a laugh in amusement every single time it crossed his mind, thought at this point, he was sure part of that was due to sleep deprivation that led to dipping his toe in hysteria. Nastya was not amused. He was bored as well as tired. At the same time, he wasn’t suicidal enough to call and check in on Nat because she would have his head for disturbing her. Or balls. He didn’t know which option was less horrifying. 

Still, it was entirely embarrassing when eight o’clock rolled around and he dropped face first onto his bed, feeling like he hadn’t known a night of sleep in his life. He was half asleep by the time Nastya jumped on the bed only to gingerly climb on top of his ass and settle there to sleep with him. Too tired to argue and, honestly, knowing he’d lose this one even if it was with a cat, Bucky just went with it and fell asleep. Having a cat warm his butt was surprisingly comfy, anyway. 

When he woke up this time, Bucky couldn’t tell what was the exact cause this time. There was no knocking on the door, no ringing of a phone. The apartment was completely dark and eerily silent, which was immediately cause for worry, considering the weight from his ass was gone. In the new tradition of the past few days, Bucky rose with a groan before starting a search for the elusive cat. Searching for a black cat in the dark was, as it turns out, just as difficult as one would imagine. Still, she failed to appear even when he turned on the light in the kitchen and shook the box of biscuits which was a surprisingly efficient way of calling her. 

This brand of panic was one Bucky became intimately familiar in the short course of a single day, but the thought didn’t even register. He was in full on where-the-hell-is-my-cat panic mode and the solution to the problem seemed to be either calling Nat or waking Steve. Given that Nat hated being woken up in the middle of the night and Steve was closer, Bucky logically decided to go to Steve. He’d wait until morning to think about how he just decided, on the fly, to wake up a virtual stranger cause his cat was missing. Now was not the time for technicalities like that. 

Hurrying through the apartment and out the door he didn’t even bother closing behind himself, Bucky was banging on Steve’s door in a matter of seconds. Worrying about how crazed and psychotic he looked didn’t even make it onto his agenda, just like the fact it was the middle of the night and Steve might not appreciate this visit at all. Whatever, the cat was missing and that’s all that mattered. 

The door opened so suddenly, Bucky almost fell forward and straight into a very naked chest. Luckily, or maybe unluckily at any rate, he didn’t. He didn’t even let himself appreciate the sight which was a testament of how entirely worried he was. It didn’t help matters that Steve looked extremely frazzled and half asleep on his feet in a way that should have been too adorable for a man of his size to accomplish. Who could blame him for being half asleep on his feet, anyway, considering everything.

“Bucky?” Steve asked and, wow, he was so sleepy, it was fucking cute. “What time is it?”

“Nastya’s missing!” Bucky exclaimed, though he was suddenly aware that, technically, Steve could do nothing to help. “I, uh… I can’t find her in the apartment and she’s didnt’ come when I called, what do I do, I lost a cat after just one day, what if she’s dead.” He stopped and his eyes were on the verge of bugging out. “Oh my god, what if she’s dead, Steve?” 

Steve, for one, was at a loss for words, his hand coming up awkwardly to settle on Bucky’s shoulder and, oh wow, he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, how did that happen. It didn’t matter! Bucky was on the verge of hyperventilating at this point, the helplessness was too much to handle and he felt like such a failure because, honestly, who loses a cat after just a day. Steve looked just as panicked, probably sensing that Bucky was freaking out a lot over this, his other hand lifting to Bucky’s other shoulder and, at the moment, Bucky was sure Steve would shake some sense into him. 

“Bucky…” Steve started, his voice low and soothing, only to be interrupted by a loud screeching meow. They both froze before turning towards the sound to find Nastya sitting in the open door of Bucky’s apartment, her yellow eyes staring at the two of them with not so much as a speck of sympathy. 

The moment seemed to drag on; for Bucky, it was out of relief first that was partially due to Steve’s comforting hands on his shoulders. The relief, though, melted into mortification soon enough because, wow, he’d panicked and woken up his neighbor because he couldn’t find one small cat in his own apartment. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, coloring them with that horrible red that came all too easily with embarrassment. 

In what felt like slow motion, Bucky turned back to look at Steve, so horribly embarrassed about this whole thing. He turned just in time to see Steve’s eyes narrow as they still remained trained on the rather remorseful cat.

“Bucky,” Steve said seriously. “Did your cat just come out of your apartment?” 

Bucky cringed, suddenly feeling like he’s being scolded by the old principal in school, the one with the eyepatch and impressive levels of not giving a rat’s ass.

“Uh… she did?” he replied, though it came out more like a question rather than an answer. 

“Y’know, if you wanted to talk to me, you could do it during daytime too,” Steve continued, his voice flat, without looking away from the still disinterested cat. 

Bucky wasn’t exactly paying attention to what was being said, though, too focused on the damn cat that was just plain evil apparently. “Uhm, I think I should… go… there… thanks, Steve!” Bucky exclaimed before he removed himself from Steve’s grip and, in a fit of surprising agility, scooped up the cat and disappeared into the darkness of his apartment before Steve could utter another word. Jesus, Bucky was equal parts mortified about what happened and terrified of seeing Steve again. Which he will have to do, because seriously, he wasn’t raised in a barn, he definitely owed Steve an apology for this shit. He also deserved for the earth to open up and swallow him whole, but that probably won’t happen any time soon. For now, he settled on waiting for his heartbeat to slow as he clutched Nastya to his chest, his back leaning against the apartment door. He indulged in one short sweep of the hallway through the peephole, even if he knew he wouldn’t be able to see Steve from there, before he decided to sleep on it and maybe it would turn out that all of it was just a dream. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever, I know, but this story has like no plot and I have no ideas for it so I'm just gonna finish the last part I had in mind for it when I started the fic and be done with it. 
> 
> Currently working on my Stucky Big Bang fic, though, which can be found on my profile under the title Bucky Barnes, PI

As soon as he opened his eyes, sunlight streaming into the room, Bucky knew it hadn’t been a dream. Of course not, embarrassment of those proportions couldn’t happen even in his worst nightmare, yet somehow he managed it while awake. Talk about achieving the impossible. Now he couldn’t stop the blush of absolute shame consuming his face. The question of how the hell he’d face Steve again surfaced in the forefront of his mind, but he let it slip away immediately. He’d be fine, he was a grown ass man, for fuck sake.

Still, the idea of avoiding Steve for as long as possible was a good one at the moment. Maybe he’d think it was all a dream and all, forget about the whole thing. Optimistically speaking, it could happen. Too bad Bucky wasn’t exactly known for being an optimist. He fit better into the drama queen description, commonly known for blowing the most random things out of proportion. Well, luckily, Netflix was a thing and hiding out in the apartment all day with the cat and junk food sounded like as good a plan as any at the moment. That option was made possible just for the simple fact that it was Sunday and the parlor was closed for the weekends. 

Of course, as much as he wanted to do that, he knew he couldn’t because he was raised better than that and an apology should be made. At the moment, Bucky was feeling bad enough to actually get up and get dressed immediately to go out. Overpriced coffee and pastries were the first thing he could think of and, given that he woke Steve up in the middle of the night, coffee was surely the first thing he needed now. He did, of course, remember to feed Nastya first and it distracted her from the fact Bucky slipped out of the apartment. Given that he hadn’t left her all alone in there since he brought her home, he had no idea how well that’d go over, but coming back almost half an hour later with coffee and ridiculous amounts of food to find Nastya asleep on top of his pillow only proved that she was fine. The same could not be said for the pillow, probably.

As he picked up everything he got for Steve, Bucky came to realize that leaving the apartment this early was an easy task compared to what he had to do next. Maybe he could just leave all of it in front of Steve’s door, knock and run away before Steve could open the door. A solid plan, that. Though, that didn’t leave much of an option for apologizing and therefore meant the plan was flawed after all. He could make do with that, though, considering he was probably the last person Steve wanted to see at the   
moment. Not to mention that Steve could still be sleeping, since it was pretty early and Bucky could confirm that Steve’s sleep was interrupted last night.

With that thought, Bucky set everything back down on the table and pondered about a better course of action. Now, this would be a perfect time to actually stop and think about the small matter of why the hell it was such a big deal that Steve isn’t mad about the incident. Or why one disapproving look from a stranger, no matter how hot, was enough to make Bucky cave and adopt a cat for the first time ever. Of course, he did not consider either of those things because he was preoccupied with something else, namely figuring out how to word his apology before putting it down on paper. It didn’t take long to conclude that writing a note to go with the coffee was a better option than risking waking Steve yet again. He couldn’t help but add a drawing of Nastya sleeping on his pillow to the short, but heartfelt apology. After all, reminding Steve that Nastya was cute and all could only win Bucky some favor.

The drawing took some time to finish, but then he was finally all set to go and leave it for Steve. He figured he could decide whether he should knock on the door or not when he’s actually faced with that decision. Nastya was still sleeping in the same spot so Bucky figured it was safe to pick up all the stuff from the table, the paper with the drawing and apology taped to one of the paper bags, and leave the apartment for a moment to leave all of it in front of Steve’s door. The fact that this turned into an   
endeavor of epic proportions didn’t escape his notice.

This was the moment where he noticed just how bored he actually was in the rut he didn’t even realize he was stuck in. Maybe he should be adding a huge thank you drawing to this as well, seeing as Steve was the one that technically brought a change into his life. That actually made him smile, thinking about the image of Nastya shedding on his pillow, knowing he was so sold on the idea of having a pet despite it never actually crossing his mind before. With her around, he’d been less lonely the previous couple of days. The knowledge that he also had an opportunity to maybe make a friend helped as well. If his apology went well, that is.

As soon as he stepped out of his apartment, Bucky was sure things would in fact not go all that well. He’d barely moved from his door and he was already colliding with what felt like a solid brick wall, almost crushing everything he’d been holding between them because of course the brick wall turned out to be Steve. Steve who was gripping him by the arm to steady him while Bucky did his best to hold onto the stuff in his hands.

“You okay?” Steve asked, genuine concern so painfully evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky replied, but avoided eye contact for the time being. “Thanks.”

Only then did he notice Steve was dressed in workout gear, obviously on his way for a run at this ungodly hour. Wasn’t too early for Bucky to ogle just how tight Steve’s shirt was, but still, too early for running even without the fact Steve was so rudely woken up in the middle of the night.

They stood in a somewhat awkward silence for a few moments longer before Bucky actually gathered his wits and remembered why he was awake and in front of Steve’s door at this time of morning anyway.

“Uh,” Bucky started very intelligently, “I was just bringing you coffee and breakfast. Y’know, as an apology for waking you up last night.” Once the words left his mouth, he couldn’t make himself seek out eye   
contact because he was still overrun by embarrassment.

“You didn’t have to,” Steve said and the words made Bucky look up, surprised to see a small smile on his face. “But since you did, you can join me for breakfast.”

With that, Steve took the paper bag with pastries from Bucky’s hands and turned back towards his apartment, leaving no room for refusing the invitation. Which was  _ just _ great considering now he’d have to look at Steve while Steve read his little note. Would the embarrassment ever end, he wondered.

“Weren’t you going out for a run?” Bucky asked, maybe a bit too hopefully. Not like he was opposed to spending time with Steve, the guy seemed perfectly nice, but he was still feeling plenty of residue shame   
from last night. Was it too much to ask to save some face in front of this guy? What with the obvious incident and the earlier one that still cracked Bucky up when he thought about carpet burns.

“I think I can skip it this one time,” Steve told him, looking over his shoulder with a grin as he led the way into the apartment, stopping with his hand on the doorknob to let Bucky in. “Would you like some coffee too? I already turned on the coffee maker, should be done soon.”

“Sure,” Bucky told him, eyes taking in the apartment on his way to the kitchen. It was a mirror image of his own, yet it looked so different. He came face to face with that furry little beast and barely suppressed a surprised yelp. The snort from Steve’s direction, though, served to prove that the way he was startled by a small fuzzy animal didn’t go by unnoticed.

“You okay over there?” Steve asked and Bucky could hear the glee in his voice. “Should I save you from the beast or can you handle it on your own?”

Turning and glaring only made Steve laugh out loud and really, Bucky could not find it in himself to be mad at that. Not that he would be in the first place, knowing he was just as much of a little shit when he   
wanted to be.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” was all he said, making his way towards the kitchen with Steve right next to him. The sound of barely suppressed laughter was unmistakable, coming from the direction where Steve was standing, but Bucky chose to ignore it as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Bucky started, hoping to change the subject to something that wasn’t his apparent fear of a small furry animal. “Why the magazine? I know my eyeliner wasn’t exactly on point when we met, but I wasn't the one to put it on so...” he trailed off, waving his hand awkwardly.

Meanwhile, Steve turned to look at Bucky, a grin still plastered on his face, even if it looked slightly more apologetic than devious. "Do you ever just feel the need to do something silly?" he asked in lieu of an answer. "I just got an urge to do something ridiculous just because you made fun of my shirt," he finally replied with a chuckle.

Bucky had to laugh as well because he knew completely what Steve was talking about. Sure, he hadn't really pulled a prank in years, but he understood what this was about.

"But your eyeliner really was bad too," Steve added, making Bucky laugh out loud.

"I'd like to see you do better," Bucky joked even though he knew there was no way for that make up to look good after having a drunk person do it then falling asleep for a few hours with his face buried in a pillow.

The words prompted Steve to stop and look at Bucky with narrow eyes. The way he observed for a long moment in absolute silence was almost unnerving.

"Bring me eyeliner and we can see right now." The statement was delivered with a completely straight face, Bucky was already panicking that he'd end up wearing make-up yet again, but Steve grinned and turned back to the counter where he'd left the bags. He was opening them and emptying the contents onto plates. Bucky almost forgot about the drawing taped to one of the bags, though he did get a moment to wonder if he'd gone overboard considering he brought  _ bags _ of stuff.

"Oh wow, is this Nastya?" Steve asked, reminding Bucky of the drawing. "This looks great." Steve turned,   
looking at Bucky with wide eyes and a grin. "You didn't tell me you were an artist."

"It didn't come up in the only two times we actually spoke," Bucky replied with a chuckle. "I work at the tattoo shop a couple of blocks from your clinic."

“You’re Natasha’s boss!” Steve exclaimed suddenly, pointing a finger at Bucky.

"Do not say that in front of her, she might do something to you," Bucky said with a grimace, remembering the last time he'd joked about being her boss. There were hair clippers involved. "But yeah, I work with Nat," he added.

Steve placed the plates on the table, turning around to pour Bucky a cup of coffee which he put on the table as well along with a bowl of sugar.

"So," Bucky started as Steve sat down opposite him, taking a sip of his own coffee, "you ran out pretty abruptly yesterday." With an odd kind of satisfaction, Bucky watched Steve almost choke on the sip he'd taken, sputtering while his face grew redder by the second. "Was anything on your mind?" Asking that might have been pushing things too far, but then again Steve had started with the pranks so Bucky didn't feel too bad.

Steve pulled himself together fairly quickly, glaring at Bucky for a moment before he smirked and Bucky figured he was fucked. "Well, with the state of your hair and carpet burns on your cheek of all places, it didn't seem too farfetched that you were getting it on with someone on your living room floor," Steve said with such conviction and a straight face, Bucky could do nothing but stare at him. He knew he was the one blushing now and he absolutely hated it, but how could he have known what he was starting?

"I have a feeling there's a story here to explain why your first thought is sex after seeing carpet burns," Bucky said, hoping he sounded smooth or whatever and not like this entire discussion went in a direction he hadn't anticipated.

"I guess you could say that," Steve told him, grinning in a devious sort of way. It was both unusual and fitting to see on Steve's face. "So, how's Nastya doing?" he asked, changing the subject before Bucky could say or ask something that would probably make this encounter infinitely awkward which he really didn't want to do, Steve seemed like a nice guy to hang out with. Even if he was a little shit sometimes.

"She's okay," Bucky said with a smile that he couldn't and didn't actually want to fight. "As you can see from that awesome piece of art over there, she claimed one of my pillows as her own and won't sleep anywhere else, as far as I can tell."

"That sounds like normal cat behavior," Steve said in his professional veterinarian voice. "Obviously she's already okay."

"Yeah, well, my pillow isn't," Bucky added with a huff, though there was no annoyance in his tone. God, he was already whipped by a cat after two days and didn't even mind.

"You'll get used to it," Steve supplied helpfully around a mouthful of whatever it was he'd picked off the plate. Somehow he still managed to look smug that he got Bucky to adopt a cat.

"Thanks, pal, you're very helpful and reassuring," Bucky replied flatly. Still, he didn't really mind being teased or having a cat. He was having fun and couldn't really complain about it.

"Just doing my job," Steve told him with a grin. Bucky wasn't sure what he was getting into with this guy.

"You know, your boy next door look is very misleading," Bucky complained because he could already see himself being conned into adopting another animal.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Steve replied, innocently chewing on his bagel, looking like he knew exactly what Bucky was talking about.

From there, it was surprisingly easy to talk to Steve as if they were friends for years already. Bucky can't say that happened with a lot of people so far or that he minded at all. It was a nice feeling, really, knowing he was still able to make friends. It sounded silly to admit, even if only in the privacy of his own thoughts, but it was true. He hadn't exactly made many friends in the past several years or met many people he'd want to date and now there was Steve who somehow fit into both of those categories. That thought alone made him wonder whether it was too early to ask Steve out or not.

Before he knew it, an hour and a half passed in conversation and Bucky couldn't help but worry about Nastya being alone for that long. Steve saying that cats are pretty independent did nothing to soothe his worry, though he could tell it was kind of irrational just like the rest of his worries when it came to that cat since he got her.

All too soon, Bucky was back in his own apartment, filling Nastya's bowl with food and noticing that she hadn't moved one bit from the pillow where he'd left her. That just served to prove that Steve was completely right and Bucky was slightly regretting coming back to his apartment where he had no idea what to do to pass the time. Having too much free time wasn’t exactly something that happened to him very often or at all, really.

Considering he had no choice at the moment, though, he figured he might make the most of it and maybe finish reading his book. Nastya was still asleep and didn’t look like she’d be moving any time soon so playing with her wasn’t an option no matter how much he wanted to do that. He couldn’t help it, okay, she was just so soft. So Bucky picked up his book and settled in on his bed, next to where Nastya was sleeping, set on enjoying his last day off. Who knew when he’d get one of those again.

* * *

Going to work again turned out to be more stressful than Bucky anticipated, now that he knew Nastya was all alone at home while he was gone. He was probably being as paranoid as Nat claimed, but he couldn’t help it; he’d never had an actual living being in his care before. There were worse ways of handling it, though, so Bucky figured he wasn’t going overboard. After all, his work didn’t suffer and he was focused while working, only worrying in between clients.

For the first time in a while, Bucky found himself looking forward to going home at the end of the day. Probably even more so when he was walking towards the animal clinic just in time to see Sam kick Steve out.

“Hey, Steve,” he said with a grin, amused at the startled look Steve directed at him before it was replaced by recognition. “Banned from work again?” 

Steve sighed before speaking. “Yeah,” he started, “I took over Clint’s shift again because he’s still sick.”

“Wait, if he’s sick and you were forced to take the weekend off, who was working?” Bucky asked as they started walking down the street towards their apartment building. Now that he took a better look at him, Steve looked completely exhausted.

“A friend of mine took over while I was away. Apparently, I’m working too much,” Steve said, rolling his eyes in a way that suggested he strongly disagreed with that assessment. 

“Well, you do look half asleep right now so…” Bucky trailed off, fighting the grin that was threatening to break out at the glare he received at his statement. “Hey, I’m not judging.”

“Sure,” Steve said, sounding more amused than his facial expression let on. “How’s that troublemaker of yours doing?” he asked, a small smile making it’s way to his face, replacing the frown. 

“I’m assuming she left enough hair on my pillow to make another cat,” Bucky said, after already coming to terms with the fact that the pillow was going to be Nastya’s bed from this point on. “I’ve been meaning to ask, is it normal for a cat to eat cooked vegetables?”

“Sure, as long as they’re not too spiced and you’re not keeping her on an all vegetable diet. Just don’t give her onions and you’re good,” Steve told him, sounding more like the professional he was rather than the amusement he’d shown only moments ago. “Seriously, don’t keep her on a vegan diet. It would be bad for her.”

“I’ve been reading about that so it should be fine.”

“You’re doing pretty good as far as I could tell,” Steve told him just as they reached the building and unlocked the front door, before holding them open for Bucky.

“Thanks,” Bucky said with a smile as he walked in and started for the stairs, Steve close behind. “So I couldn’t help but notice you don’t have a cat even though you’re all for adopting them,” Bucky said coyly. “What is up with that?”

“I prefer dogs,” Steve said simply from behind Bucky. “But I shouldn’t have one at the moment due to my busy work schedule.”

“Isn’t your schedule self imposed though?” Bucky asked without looking back, making his way towards his apartment door. 

“You could say that,” Steve replied. “Maybe I’ll get one when I can. I still have Hulk, though.”

“Finding a rat and keeping it doesn’t count,” Bucky said as he unlocked his door, turning back to Steve who stopped next to him.

“He’s a chinchilla and I got him from Bruce, actually,” Steve said, a fond smile on his face. Whether it was because of Hulk or Bruce, Bucky wasn’t sure, but it was definitely a good look on him. “Well, I’ll see you around,” he said as a goodbye, with a soft smile and a small wave as he backed away towards his own door.

“Get some sleep,” Bucky said, matching the smile. “Bye, Steve,” he added before opening the door and going into the apartment. 

He was feeling good and somehow content, the panic from before all but forgotten especially when he spotted Nastya in the middle of the living room, sitting still with her eyes trained straight at him. The general look of innocence about her only made him suspicious, though. Bucky did a lot of reading about cats in general and one thing that kept popping up was that he should never trust the innocent look on a cat’s face.

She meowed at him then and he melted a little, going closer and gently scooping her up. The purring started almost instantly and Bucky grinned, cradling her in his arms as he made his way towards the bedroom to change out of the jeans he was wearing. There was a huge pink ink stain on them that he knew wouldn’t be coming out anytime soon and the only thing he could hope was that it didn’t bleed through to his skin. He wasn’t too keen on having a pink splotch on his leg for the foreseeable future, after all.

The huge nest of fabric in the middle of the bed kind of distracted him from that, though. She started wriggling in his grip and he let her go slowly, letting her land on the bed where she walked over to the nest and started digging through it, all the while meowing softly. After a moment she stopped, shook herself off and ran away with a loud purring sound. 

Bucky snorted before dismantling the pile of stuff, noticing several of his dirty socks and shirts from the laundry basket. It was definitely weird, but who was he to judge. What made him stop in his tracks, though, was a bright blue pair of boxer briefs that most definitely didn’t belong to him. 

Considering he had no idea where they came from or who they belonged to, Bucky figured it was a good enough cause to be alarmed even if he doubted someone would break into his apartment only to leave their underwear behind. 

The sound of paws on the floor made him turn around towards the living room where Nastya was doing laps around the couch, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder just where the hell she got them from. This seemed like a pretty good time to get his laptop and see what he can find about cats and their thieving tendencies.


End file.
